


There Is No Redemption

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: Adventures in Odyssey
Genre: 2800+ words of pure angst, Alternate Universe, Angst, Darkness Before Dawn AU, Honestly I doubt anyone will read this, I'M IN A DARK PLACE RIGHT NOW, This is like ultra dark for a kids radio show, What-If, almost canon-compliant death, cries again, cries and bawls, definitely, i went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: Richard Maxwell doesn't jump from the car at the end of "Another Chance" during the Darkness Before Dawn arc - cue what would have happened. ***EXTREME ANGST, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!***





	There Is No Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> My tags DO NOT LIE.
> 
> You have been warned.

Richard staggered from the car, willing this all to be a dream. But he knew it wasn’t. This was going to happen – he was going to die. Blackgaard had won – and the one regret Richard had was that he wouldn’t see the bastard rot in jail.

His body felt numb, the electrical stun still working itself through his nervous system. The nausea had subsided, but he was slow on his feet. He was in no shape to run from his enemies. He should have known Blackgaard would have one of those electrical stunners. The doctor was crafty and a genius. He knew how to wipe his hands of all nefarious deeds – like this one.

Behind Richard, Professor Bovril stepped from the car, his eyes glancing around the clearing that was surprisingly hidden from any visitor to the lake. He swallowed, apprehension obvious. This wasn’t something he had exactly signed up to do when Dr. Blackgaard had asked – more like demanded – his assistance in looking into the mineral under Whit’s End and then cultivating as much of it to use in various applications. Professor Leonard Bovril was a man of science. He felt no pleasure in taking a man’s life.

His partner, however, had the opposite facial expression. Myron Jones – aka Jellyfish – looked almost gleeful as he dropped his back-pack on the trunk of the car and reached a meaty hand out to grab Richard by the back of his neck. Too many times before Richard had been the victim of a ‘Jellyfish special’ – a good punch or two, a few too many set-ups back in the detention center, and scathing words. This time would be no different – but it would be different all the same.

Richard swung an arm back, his elbow knocking into the shorter man’s jaw. The one thing they had yet to do was restrain him in any way, so even if Richard wasn’t exactly feeling any pain or sensation quite yet, he still had the motor control to get in a few punches of his own.

This was taken as well as you could imagine by Jellyfish, his hand on Richard’s neck pushing down hard enough to make Richard take a knee onto the dirt. Jellyfish promptly grunted, slamming his free fist into Richard’s head. Myron Jones did not take kindly to being beaten back by his victims, let alone the one and only Richard Maxwell.

“Good effort, Maxwell. But you’ll have to do better than that to throw me off guard.” With little effort, Jellyfish took his left foot and shoved Richard onto his hands and knees. “Wouldn’t want to have that pretty face of yours marred for your funeral.” He chuckled at his own ruthlessness, watching as Richard took stock of his current position.

The fist had hurt, but Richard could deal. At least, for the time being. He suspected that the future minutes would come to an abrupt end when he could no longer think, no longer breathe, no longer feel his heart beat. That was the object of this masquerade, but Richard also knew Jellyfish would drag it out as long as possible. Funeral…

“Planning to attend that funeral, aye, Myron?”

They had always been at odds with each other. They had always hurled insults at each other, often being snarky and defensive. Obviously, Richard had hit a nerve, as the retaliation included two punches to his right side, a foot to the face, and spit in his eye. Richard felt no ill-will towards the comment. Hopefully someone would attend his funeral. That was, once the citizens of Odyssey found his body. Jellyfish likely would not be in attendance though. It was far more likely he would be in jail – though there was likely to be little mention of his part in the murder of one Richard William Maxwell.

“Jellyfish,” Bovril warned, his voice low. “We can’t just play with him.”

From his spot on the ground, Richard chuckled. “We all know how this is going to end, whether you ‘play’ with me or not. Dragging this out will be Myron’s prize. He will finally –“ The force of Jellyfish’s foot directly into Richard’s face produced a copious amount of blood this go around. This just made Richard laugh only harder as he struggled to sit up on his left elbow, spitting the flowing iron-tasting liquid away from his mouth.

Jellyfish was red in the face, his snarl loud enough to rustle birds sleeping in the trees surrounding them. “Shut up, Maxwell. If you want to talk, then you better tell us why you were at Whit’s End.”

With a cough, Richard just smiled up at his captors. Because that’s all they were here to do, gather information from him and then let him go. Right, that was an obvious lie. Shrugging, Richard gingerly allowed himself to get up onto his knees, his face passive of all emotion. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Every snarky remark earned him a punch or a kick. It wasn’t the first time Richard had been in a fist fight. But he took the blows, letting the two men believe they had the upper hand.

“How did you know where we were?”

Richard shrugged. “Mad guessing skills.” He laughed as Jellyfish grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. There was a slight wince at the pain, but Richard didn’t let on that he was being pushed to his limit. He could take more. And he knew Jellyfish had a lot more to dish out.

This went on for about twenty minutes, Jellyfish asking questions, Richard answering with smirks, stupid answers, or even firing back with his own questions. Jellyfish was getting to the end of his fraying rope at the non-answers, his voice almost shouting and his fists slamming into every body piece he could find as Richard willingly became a punching bag.

Professor Bovril attempted to quiet the younger man down, reminding him they didn’t want to be found. It was barely enough to hold back Jellyfish’s anger as he kicked Richard in the stomach for the third time in five minutes, his spit directed at Richard’s swelling and bruised face. In another fit of anger, he managed to put enough force onto Richard’s right arm to dislocate the shoulder. Richard only gritted his teeth in response, his entire arm going numb.

In the momentary quiet, there was a very distinct sound of a twig breaking nearby.

Jellyfish spun, eyes wide in fear. “What was that? Who is there?!” He glanced around the edge of the clearing, trying to find the source of the sound.

The Professor stood very still. “It could have been an animal.” But he wasn’t sure he believed that carefully crafted lie.

Stalking over to the car, Jellyfish did a circle around the perimeter, trying to see if he could find anything that might have broken a twig or branch. Unfortunately, nothing.

Jellyfish slammed a hand onto the trunk of the car in his anger. “We can’t be seen. Professor, you go that way for one hundred yards.” He waved off to the east, eyes focused on the west. “I’ll go the opposite direction. Then we will circle around back to here.”

Professor Bovril was about to ask about their still-living captive, but Jellyfish got to the point quickly. “Don’t worry, even if he tries to move, he won’t get far.”

The two men headed off in opposite directions to see if they could discern who or what had caused the cracking of a twig nearby.

Once they were out of ear shot, Richard struggled to sit up. His body ached – bruised and bleeding from the attack on his extremities, his face, his chest, his back, and his stomach. He wasn’t going to run. He wouldn’t be able to. He just needed to – to – 

A hand touched his dislocated shoulder and Richard hissed in pain. He twisted, trying to breathe through the unexpected throbbing. Through blurry eyes, Richard saw a familiar face. A face that shouldn’t have been there.

“Rodney.”

The younger boy looked terrified. “What do I do?! I don’t know how to drive! I have to get you out of here!” Rodney bent down, trying to grab Richard’s shirt to drag him out of the clearing. “They’ll be back soon!”

With his good hand, Richard reached out, stopping Rodney from dragging him anywhere. “Rodney. It’s no use. I know my fate. You have to get out of here, or they will do the same thing to you.” The younger boy didn’t let up. Richard tried again. “Do you understand me? They will kill you if they find you.”

Rodney gulped as he came to a halting stop, his grip releasing. He wasn’t even strong enough to drag Richard a few inches as it was. The idea of rescuing the man seemed to diminish with each passing second. “But – but –“

Richard offered a small smile. “You are truly brave to try to save me. If you get out of here and get the chance, tell the police what happened. And then if you survive long enough to see Mr. Whittaker come back to town, tell him I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell him good-bye.”

Rodney felt like stone – his feet lead, his body a statue. He just stared at the man before him, his brain processing what he had just heard. He opened his mouth in protest, but coming footsteps alerted him to his short time.

“You’re going to die.” Rodney felt the finality of those words hit him like a brick. The man before him, Richard Maxwell, was going to die. And Rodney would be one of the last people to see him alive.

Richard gently pushed Rodney away, his face sad. “Go.”

Rodney held back a rush of tears as he scrambled to get away from the area, barely disappearing behind the trees and branches before Professor Bovril emerged into the clearing.

Richard didn’t acknowledge the Professor, his eyes on the ground as he processed what he had just done. He attempted to save Rodney from death, but signed his own death warrant. By not leaving, his execution was imminent. He really was going to die. There was no hope left. Just anger at a man who had ruined Richard’s life, and would now steal his breath. Dr. Blackgaard had taken the victory – there was nothing left for Richard to fight.

Not even thirty seconds later, Jellyfish reappeared, his face a mixture of annoyance and trepidation. He headed straight for his back-pack that still sat on the trunk of the car, his focus on finding something deep within its pockets.

The Professor kept a fair distance from Jellyfish, his eyes on the man sitting haphazardly on the ground. Richard looked worse for the wear, but it was not going to get any better.

Pulling out of his mindless stupor, Richard looked up at the Professor. He kept his expression neutral, but in his heart, he felt like he was breaking. He had been in this position only once before – but a savior had rescued him. There would be no savior this time.

“So, does the condemned get any last words?”

Jellyfish laughed as he stepped away from the car, his prize held firmly in the palm of his right hand. In it was a six-inch serrated hunting knife. And it looked brand new.

“What do you think, Professor? Should we allow him the decency of last words before we permanently silence him?” Jellyfish advanced on the unsuspecting victim, knife raised menacingly.

Richard gulped, raising his hands in self-defense. He was afraid – he was terrified – but he would not beg; would not plead for his life. This was where life had lead him, and this was his duty in completing his mission – he was going to die, in the hopes Jason and Jack and Tom had enough time to find Jellyfish’s laptop and convict the lot of the bad guys for every travesty under the sun. So be it if his death was the driving force. So be it if no one ever saw a second of jail time for silencing him.

Professor Bovril looked uneasy, unsure how to answer that question. “I defer that decision to you, Jellyfish.”

Squatting before Richard’s shaking form, Jellyfish gave his knife a smile and ran the flat end of the blade across Richard’s left cheek.

“You always were a coward. But I guess I could give you a few last words. Because mark my words,” he whispered. “You will die.”

Richard had no doubts. He looked his killer directly in the face, memorizing the shape of his eyes, the faint scar along his hairline, and the obviously poor nose fix. “You can steal my life, Myron, but you can’t have my soul. And he doesn’t own it. He can say he has won, but I won’t let him win. You just tell him all the lies you want when you get back to him. Wherever I end up, I'll remember you for this. But, I forgive you, Myron. I forgive you for murdering me.”

The knife turned and left a red streak down Richard’s cheek. It wouldn’t be the last cut of the evening, this he was sure of.

If there was one thing Richard would regret by leaving this life prematurely, it was that he would never see John Avery Whittaker again. The older man, who had saved Richard’s life in more ways than just physically, would never have the chance to know how much his life had impacted Richard. While Jack Allen was a particularly appropriate stand-in in this time of upheaval in Odyssey, the fact that Richard did not get to properly say good-bye to Whit made this a painful ending. Physical pain he could deal with – the mental anguish of never seeing Whit again made Richard want to weep. He hoped Rodney would get away and see Whit one day. He hoped someone would remember him. But this was it – he was about to die, and there would be no savior like before.

Richard saw the knife flash before him, but he didn’t react as it stabbed multiple times into his abdomen, then into his right thigh, and then into the center of his chest, his breath catching. He crumpled to the ground, shaking from the blood loss and the pain. He would have wept, but he didn’t want to give the two men killing him the satisfaction of seeing him surrender – to beg or plead for a quick end. There was further great pain as the knife stabbed into his left foot.

Above Richard’s bodily form, Bovril seemed to appear like an angel, his mouth angrily demanding that this be finished. Jellyfish, master of the deadly weapon, only nodded in reply.

As if passive to the violation to his body, Richard felt his body on another level; one that wasn’t of an earthly place. The pain increased momentarily as the knife slid across his neck, spilling whatever blood was left in his body. The pain subsided quickly, his eyes slowly closing. But before the string tying him to the mortal world snapped, Richard took a pain searing deep breath and coughed. It spewed the blood gathering in his throat all over his murderer’s faces.

With that, Richard felt the string snap and his head lolled. His eyes were closed forever, his heart silent. His blood had been spilled. He no longer took breath.

Rodney hadn’t ran away, crouching behind the trees and brush, wanting to give Richard some sort of moral support. But it was likely useless, now that the man was silent. Rodney wanted to let out a scream, but he knew if he made any sort of sound that Jellyfish and Professor Bovril would find him out and then have to kill him too. He had just witnessed the murder of Richard Maxwell. Richard’s body was still, unmoving. It was a sight Rodney had hoped to never witness. He was going to have nightmares about this for the rest of his life.

Professor Bovril ran a sleeve down his face to clean off the blood, his expression one of disgust. He had just participated in the killing of a man – a boy. And now he was going to have to bury the body. He looked at Jellyfish, the man’s face mildly contemplative.

“I picked this spot because it was likely to be well hidden. But it’s also near a deserted part of the lake. Leaving him here wouldn’t do well if any search parties were to be sent out – they would find his body too easily. We need to dump Maxwell in the water.”

With little effort, the two men carefully picked up the lifeless body and carried it to the edge of the lake in the shadow of the coming darkness. The sun had just set as they lowered the bloodied and wounded body into the lake, Jellyfish wading out into the depths. He watched with amused satisfaction as his nemesis sank without a fight into the murky bottom of Trickle Lake. A corpse usually didn’t put up a fight.

When he was sure the deed was done, Jellyfish exited the lake and waved the Professor to follow him. “Come on, Professor. Dr. Blackgaard is waiting for us.”

The darkness enveloped the lake and Professor Bovril felt a pang of regret. He had just done the unthinkable. And now he would have to just walk away from it all, forget about it. Bury it.

What unspeakable atrocity had just occurred?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in an incredibly dark place right now and this was truly cathartic for me. Do I take pleasure in writing stuff like this? No. But it's also how I've been viewing Richard Maxwell for quite a while now, in general anyway. And it makes me sad. But this was stuck in my head and if I post it, whether anyone reads it or not - totally understand if no one does - I can move on with something else, like my Imagination Station Salvation fanfic for Richard (where he DOESN'T die!). Posting it just gives me the okay to move on. At least, I hope so.
> 
> If you got this far, you are amazing. And if you are crying, I totally understand. I cried too. Still am crying.


End file.
